Stars don't always shine
by namelessDrifter
Summary: As a freshman in college, Star is finally able to get away from the hell hole that is Amity Park. Unfortunately, years of living in the supernatural hot spot has taken its toll on her psych. Star does her best to try to get on with her life while coping with ghost-related PTSD. A therapeutic fic heavily based on personal experience. (no PP)
1. Chapter 1

_Ok, so this story is something that's really near and dear to my heart. It's really heavily based on personal experience. PTSD is something I'm currently coping with so I'm writing this mostly for myself. It's therapeutic. Even though Danny was the series's main character and protector, I feel like everyone in the town was affected by the constant ghost attacks. I chose to write about Star cause she's not too terribly fleshed out in the series, meaning I have more to work with as far as her personal life goes. That and her situation, as a bystander witnessing the trauma at her school, is closer to what I went through. I'm not so great right now, but I'm hoping that workin on this fic can help me get through some stuff. And I hope I do Star justice. I think it goes without saying, but there's no plans for Danny et al to be in this fic. _

It was four in the morning in a small freshman dorm at a small university about 300 miles from Amity Park. Not a sound could be heard in the darkness of room 607 in the residence hall except for the heavy breathing of 18 year old Star Jones. She had woken up from yet another nightmare. She touched a hand to the wall to re-orient herself, the other hand going to her hammering heart to assure her that yes, she was alive, and no, she was not in danger. The school was not falling down around her, and she didn't need to worry about getting struck by a stray ghost ray, or having her body be overshadowed and used as a human meat shield for whatever nefarious entity decided to infest her home town this time.

King University was the farthest school form Amity that she got into, and she was glad to be here. The people in Kingsdale had never even _heard_ of Amity Park and no sane person believed in ghosts. Here, there were no monsters trying to enslave humanity, no villains with a vendetta against a local hero. Every night between four and five in the morning she had to remind herself of this. She was _safe_ here and even if she wasn't she knew how to use the standard-issue Fenton Lipstick-Laser currently tucked in her pocket. Casper High had started issuing them and an ecto-pistol to upperclassman her junior year, and weapons training became a regular part of her high school gym class.

If there was one thing Star _hated_ it was that she knew how to fire an ecto-pistol. She _hated_ that she couldn't even _fall asleep_ without feeling the cool metal of the portable laser in the palm of her hand. She was only _14_ when her town got turned into a supernatural war zone. _Fourteen_. No one deserved to live through what she had. No one deserved to live through what any of them had. Her heart ached for her baby sister, who was starting as a freshman at Casper High this year. Her sister would never know a high school without ghost drills, or a gym class that focused on fitness for the _fun_ of it rather than for _survival_ skills. Sure, Star herself may have finally escaped hell, but her parents couldn't afford to move out of Amity. Her sister had to endure four more years in that spectral cesspool that was Amity Park.

Once she got a handle on her breathing, Star climbed down out of her lofted bed, like she did every night. Her roommate was blissfully unaware of Star's nightly horrors. She was glad for that, though. The last thing she wanted was to burden someone with her problems. She quietly grabbed her keys and slipped on a robe and some ballet flats before sneaking out the dorm room and making her way over to the elevator that would take her to the ground floor. She sniffled and wiped her nose on her fluffy pink sleeve. Star couldn't even remember tonight's dream, but it had left her more shaken up than usual.

Oh how she _wished_ there was someone she could talk to about how horribly traumatic high school had been for her. She didn't _dare_ say the w-word out loud, but she allowed herself the luxury of thinking it in her head. She knew she couldn't tell anyone about her life in Amity. They would immediately think she was crazy. By some miracle, ghosts just weren't that well known outside her home town. Part of her was glad for this- it meant she wouldn't be constantly getting the third degree from her peers once they found out where she was from. Another part of her was angry. How could everyone be so _blind_ to the crisis that was happening in their own _country?_ Mostly, she was just sad. And a little bit dead inside, if she was being honest.

All Star really had to look forward to most nights was her early morning walks. When she reached outside, she pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her robe pocket. She didn't used to smoke, but it was something to help dull the pain in her heart. She _hated_ cigarettes. Hated the smell, hated the burning in her lungs, hated the aching it caused behind her eyes. But it was something to do. It helped her to feel a sense of control over her life. And it wasn't like she was breaking any laws or anything. She was over 18, after all. She lit one up and inhaled deeply, letting the smoke settle into her lungs before she exhaled and started on her nightly walk around campus.

An eerie fog had rolled in over the grassy hills behind her dorm building. It freaked her out a bit, but the area was well lit by street lamps, so she wasn't too worried. At least nothing was green, she told herself. Just in case though, she pulled the Fenton laser out of her sweat pants pocket, where she always stashed it before going to sleep and clutched it in her right hand. Her eyes scanned the field, instinct telling her to be on the lookout for spectral activity. Star continued her walk, and tried not to cry as she took another drag off her cigarette.

She had smoked through two before she made it back to the front steps of her dorm, and stood outside to smoke through three more. Five in one night. It was a new record for the blond. She was just so _lonely_ and upset that she couldn't stand it. She wished Kwan were here. Even though they broke up in 10th grade, he was still her best friend. He would know what she was going through. How many times had she called him crying in the middle of the night after a dream where him or one of their other friends had died at school? She stopped counting after 20.

Fatigue seemed to suddenly catch up with her. Star took that as her cue to head upstairs and back to bed. She had to be at least somewhat functional for her morning English class, after all. Once she was in her room, she went in her closet, and pulled down a plain wooden box from the top shelf. She opened it and pulled out a sleek silver ecto pistol. After making sure the safety was on, she climbed back into her bed and settled down, sliding the gun under her pillow.

She didn't want to unpack it once she got to college. Didn't want to have to explain the odd pistol with the weird F on the side. But she had gotten so used to it hard coolness under her head while she slept that she didn't really feel safe without it anymore. And after tonight's dream, she felt much more at ease with the familiar weapon at easy reach. The Fenton laser was useful, but it didn't pack quite the punch the pistol did. For the first time since coming to college, Star fell back asleep within minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

_I dont normally write this fast, but this is something that's nice and easy to do for me. I did receive a question on how Star was able to carry weaponry on campus, and while I plan to address that later (I'm a big fan of 'show me dont tell me' in fic writing, so I try to keep with that) I felt it was still appropriate to offer an explanation here, as an in-story one might be a while away. As far as I can tell from canon, Ecto weaponry is non-lethal to humans and functions more as a 'phaser set to stun' kind of thing than an actual pistol (as far as non-ghosts are concerned, at any rate). Star could easily explain away her pistol as a fantasy replica of a laser gun. While close to the truth, laser munitions are still a bit too sci-fi for the world at large to take seriously, and while there may be regulations on actual guns or tasers, there's no legislation on laser weapons. Sort of like how it's legal to own operational flame throwers in many states, simply because gun control laws don't actually mention them. Or how you cant have a knife with a blade longer than three inches without a license, but metal tipped wooden stakes are fair game. _

Star woke up to the droning of her roommate's alarm clock at 9:15. Without even looking in a mirror, Star knew her blond hair was a mess, and she probably had huge bags under her eyes from all her nights of interrupted sleep. She didn't mind, though. If there was one thing Star knew, it was that no one just _woke up_ looking ready for the day. No one.

A few years ago, she might have said that no one just _woke up_ looking pretty, but she no longer believed that to be true. Living on edge made her realize that there were more important things than superficial beauty, and everyone had something about them that was innately beautiful. Her roommate, Morgan, for example, had thick dark eyelashes that framed violet eyes. Star herself liked the look of her own pink lips. Yes, everyone woke up looking pretty in their own way, she supposed, but there was a difference between looking beautiful and being presentable. It was why she even bothered getting up with her roommate's alarm, a whole two hours before her English course. Her daily beauty regimen was a predictable routine that helped her feel ready to face the day. That, and it was nice to have the time to actually enjoy breakfast in the dining hall before class.

Groggily, Star climbed out of bed and walked over to the in-room sink to brush her teeth and hair. The alarm still droned on.

"Morgan," Star called to the sleeping bundle in the other bed as she squeezed toothpaste onto the red and white bristles of her tooth brush. There was only a groan in response. "Time to get up," she said, a bit firmer. She pulled out what her friends liked to call her 'mom voice.' "Now." It had the intended effect.

Morgan quickly sat up in bed muttering, "I'm up, I'm up," while Star brushed her teeth.

She moved onto her hair and makeup as she watched Morgan scrambling to get ready in the mirror. Why she insisted on only giving herself 20 minutes to get ready for her first class was something Star couldn't understand. It wasn't like she minded though. Waking up to Morgan's alarm was much easier than waking up to her own. She felt a sense of responsibility when she had to ensure her roommate was out the door on time, and that gave Star more motivation to actually get up herself. She had stopped caring about her own well-being a long time ago, and it was only when others depended on her that she actually took much initiative anymore.

A lot of Amity teens were like that, now that she thought of it. If it weren't for their family and friends, she doubted many would even get out of bed in the mornings. The only reason Star even continued attending Casper High, with its constant ghost attacks, was to be there to support Paulina, Dash, and Kwan. Looking back on it, this was probably why Mr. Lancer had assigned so many group projects her senior year. She knew from personal experience, that if it was just her grade on the line then she would do practically nothing, but when others depended on her she always exceeded expectations.

Lost in her thoughts, Star didn't notice Morgan leave until she heard the door click shut behind her. Morgan was nice enough, and that was all Star could really ask for in a roommate. She was a bit quirky, if her interest in palmistry and tarot cards were anything to go by, but she was far from the weirdest person she had ever met. And she had good taste in fashion, so that was a plus in Star's book.

She glanced at the silver watch that had found a permanent home on her left wrist. It was 9:55. She'd have to leave soon if she didn't want to be rushed while she was eating. She had packed her bag the night before, so all she really had to do was get dressed. It felt like a blue sort of day, Star decided. She pinned her hair back with a blue flower hair clip and slipped out of her sweats and into a light blue skirt and matching flats. Blue, blue, blue. Even though the blue was vibrant, it served to subtly reflect her downcast mood. Star smiled to herself when she realized that if she had worn this to Casper, Paulina would've been on her in an instant demanding to know what was wrong. Anyone who knew her well enough knew that her color choice for the day always reflected her mood. After shrugging on a plain white tee, she grabbed her keys and backpack before leaving her room for the day.

After locking the door, she double checked that everything she needed for the day was in her bag. The last thing she wanted to do was go to class only to find she left her computer in the dorm. Her phone, wallet, laptop, and English text book were all accounted for. Out of habit, she checked the waistband of her skirt and found the Fenton laser tucked in there. She must have grabbed it without even realizing what she was doing. She wasn't sure whether to be unnerved that she would hide a weapon on her person unconsciously, or relieved that she had remembered to grab the one thing that made her feel safe outside. Star shook her head. It wasn't worth thinking about. Another look at her watch showed it was already 10:15. With a small sigh she began making her way towards the dining hall.

One hour and 10 cups of low quality coffee later, Star found herself sitting in the back corner of her English class. It was less of an English class, and more of a creative writing class the way her professor taught it, but she didn't mind. It was an easy A, and a required credit, and that was all that really mattered to her. She spaced out as the rest of the students filed in, only returning to reality when Professor Smalls closed the door with a sharp click.

Professor Smalls was, like his name suggested, a short and kind old man, who had a vibrant love for storytelling and the English language. On the first day he said to the class "The first part of writing a good essay, was telling a good story," and that the narrative of an argument was just as important, if not more so, than the facts that supported it.

Professor Smalls got his classes attention by clearing his throat and saying, "I want everyone to take out a piece of paper and write the name of a mythical creature, or unexplained phenomena on it, and pass it forward."

Star raised an eyebrow, curious to see where he was going with this. As instructed, she pulled out a sheet of paper, and after some deliberation wrote '_Leprechauns'_ on it. Leprechauns were safe, in Star's mind. Unlike robots or genies or dragons or, she shuddered just to think of it, _ghosts_, leprechauns never tried to destroy her home town. She passed her paper forward. 

Once he had all the papers, Professor Smalls proceeded to toss them into an obscenely tall top hat he had hidden behind his desk and mix them up as he explained today's activity. "Today," he began, "we are going to discuss the mythology and cultural context of different mythological creatures, which will be decided by whatever I draw from my hat." He winked at some students in the front row.

"Depending on how long our discussion lasts, we'll go from there." Eventually he stopped mixing up the papers, and reached down to the bottom of the hat. It went up to his forearm. Star wasn't sure why anyone would _need_ a hat that tall, but she didn't question it.

"Ah, here we are," Professor Smalls said as he pulled out a crumpled piece of notebook paper. He smoothed it out on his desk before smiling a little. "Ah, this is a good one. A nice broad topic." He seemed to nod approvingly at the sheet of paper before looking up to address his class. "Today we will be discussing _ghosts."_

Star felt her heart shatter. She suddenly couldn't breathe. Ghosts?_ Why did it have to be ghosts?_ She felt like Indiana Jones confronted by the snake-infested Well of Souls. She clenched her fists on her desk. She could do this. It wasn't that bad. They were just _talking,_ right? She took a deep breath. She was fine, and would be fine.

"Now," began Professor Smalls, "the spirits of the departed is a wonderful subject for us to tackle today, because unlike most myths, there is still some speculation on whether or not ghosts are _real_." Star scoffed in her head. Her hand unconsciously moving to the small bulge in her waistband that was the lipstick laser. She was fine. She would be fine.

Professor Smalls spoke again, bringing her back to reality. "What I want you all to do, is raise your hand if you_ believe_ in ghosts." About half the class raised their hands, Star included. Though her hand was only about halfway up, just enough to indicate that it was raised and nothing more. One or two students were practically out of their seats, their hands were up so high.

"Very good," he continued. "I see we have a good mix of skeptics and believers." He paced slowly in front of the classroom, hands behind his back. "On the believing side for now, have any of you actually _seen_ a ghost?"

Star didn't keep her hand up. She knew that look in her professors eyes. It meant he was going to call on someone to speak, and she did _not_ want it to be her. Not today. Not about ghosts. No.

About four people had their hands still raised. "Mr. Andrews," said the professor, indicating a student two rows in front of Star, "Would you care to share your story?"

Andrews nodded before speaking up. "Yeah, well, this may seem hard to believe," he hesitantly began, only continuing after an encouraging nod from Professor Smalls, "Well, me and my pops were drivin' through this no name town on the way to my gramma's one summer. We were just drivin' along when out of _nowhere_ this kid just falls to the ground right in front of us, just _thwack!"_ he hit the table for emphasis, "hits the ground."

Star sat up a little straighter, worry leaking its way into her features. Most ghost encounters involved dark cemeteries and creepy attics. Not kids falling out of the sky. Andrews went on after another nod from the professor. "So anyway, here we are, my pops an' I worried about the well bein' of some twerp, when he just gets up! Right off the ground. See, the creepy thing was, this kid had white hair and he was _glowing_, of all things! Next thing we know some green chick pops up outta nowhere-" Star had stopped listening.

She could only hear her own heartbeat. Suddenly she wasn't in class at King University anymore. She was walking down the streets of Amity Park, trying to get home before the next ghost attack. Except she _was_ still in class at the same time. It was like she knew where her body was, but her mind couldn't seem to escape the past. Anxiety crept up inside her. She couldn't _be_ here. She had to _leave_. Without thinking she stood up very suddenly, fists clenched around the straps of her backpack. Andrews stopped in the middle of whatever story he was regaling the class with. Star didn't care. She knew how they _all_ ended. Phantom sucking the day's menace into his little soup can and then moving on like he hadn't a care in the world. Not stopping to see if anyone was ok, more concerned with getting the sealed ghost in a can back to wherever it was from than making sure the passing civilians made it home safely.

She might have heard Professor Smalls calling her name, asking if she was alright. But she couldn't hear it at the time. It was like she was under water, and all that mattered was getting air. Getting back to the surface. Getting away from this classroom. She left the building, not even noticing the silent tears that had started to stream down her face.


	3. Chapter 3

_OC's in this fic are mostly just to help populate the world around Star, seeing as no one from Amity's around. Eventually she might skype with Kawn or Paulina, maybe even Tucker or Valerie. I'm not too sure and something like that's far off. Morgan's interest in the occult is mostly to lead her to ghosts, eventually. Cause you know, nothing says ~*~ROOMMATE MATERIAL~*~ like developing an interest in one of your major triggers. _

Star had gone home and slept the rest of the day. She was incredibly thankful that the only class she had was English, because she didn't think she could find it in herself to care if she ended up missing another class that day. Amity was the kind of town where the stranger things were always brushed off by outsiders as swamp gas, or town-wide hallucinations due to contaminants in the water. Star wished it could be that simple. But it never was.

She woke up at about six that evening, and laid in bed staring at the ceiling until Morgan came home an hour later.

"Lucy, I'm home," Morgan sang out to what she had assumed was an empty room as she entered and tossed her keys on the desk under her bed. She learned early on that it was better to announce her presence than not. The last time she didn't it took her 10 minutes to coax a shaken Star out from under her desk.

Star rolled over to look down at the other girl. "God, you're such a geek," she called back with a halfhearted grin.

Morgan looked up, surprised. "Oh hey, you're here." She took note of Star's slightly disheveled appearance as she started to climb out of her bed. "Take a nap?"

Star nodded and offered a quiet "Yep," as she jumped down the last foot or so to the ground. Her knees bent slightly as she landed, and she smoothed out her skirt when she straightened. She hadn't bothered to change before taking a nap, but that was more because all her clothes were comfortable enough to sleep in. Even her jeans. After being locked in the school overnight the second time she learned that it was better to just wear comfortable clothes.

She walked over to the sink to brush her hair and put her flower clip back in. "How was your day?" she asked, pulling the brush through her long blond hair.

"Pretty good," Morgan replied as she flopped down into her desk chair. "How was yours?" She began her nightly ritual of laying out a tarot spread on her desk.

"Alright, I guess," Star shrugged. It wasn't _exactly_ a lie. The day started fine, and she slept the rest of it. It was the middle part that wasn't so good. Not that she was going to mention _that_. She didn't want her roommate thinking she was clinically insane, after all.

She grabbed her bag and keys off her desk before turning towards the door. "I'm going to the dining hall, see you later."

Morgan just nodded from her desk, too engrossed in her cards to really pay attention. "Alright."

"I have my keys," Star shouted behind her as the door closed shut. She paused to pull out her wallet with her school ID before shouldering her backpack and heading down the stairs and to the cafeteria. Even though she was six floors up, she felt more like using the stairs than the elevator at the moment. She didn't want to risk getting stuck in an awkward silence with someone on the way down, and considering the fact that there was only one elevator, that was more likely to happen than not.

Once at the dining hall, Star settled into her favorite corner with a burger and some ice water. Her computer was out and head phones in, giving off very clear 'don't talk to me' vibes to those around her. She noticed that she had a new e-mail. It was from Professor Smalls.

He probably wanted an explanation for her storming out of the classroom that day. She wasn't sure if she could really offer much of one, but what else could she do? She couldn't ignore it, and pretend nothing happened. Something in her just… Broke. That was the only way she could think to describe it. She would say snapped but that was too dramatic for the situation. It implied too much fire, heat, and rage. No, inside there was only hurt, and fear. Darkness. She liked to think that this was exactly what a dementor attack felt like. With a sigh, Star opened the e-mail. Why delay the inevitable?

_Hello Ms. Jones,_

_I noticed that you seemed fairly upset as you left class earlier this afternoon. I just wanted to let you know that you were not marked absent from today's class, and there was no assigned homework. _

_I understand that the transition to college can be very stressful for some students, and I apologize for anything that was said to upset you. Feel free to come to my office if you have any questions or just want to talk. My hours are between 1 and 3 tomorrow, but if that conflicts with your class schedule then I'm sure arrangements can be made._

_Professor S. A. Smalls_

_Rice building room 203_

Star was relieved that Professor Smalls didn't seem to hold her disappearing act against her. Well, that was one less thing to worry about, at any rate. She decided it couldn't hurt to stop by his office later tomorrow, though. Star _did_ only have one class tomorrow, and if nothing else it would be something for her to do. She didn't like the fact that she had slept the day away today, but she figured she could make up for it by being more productive tomorrow.

She would probably take a Benadryl tonight, she decided in between bites of her burger. It was far from allergy season for her, but the antihistamine would help her to fall asleep tonight. She would be groggy in math tomorrow, but she wasn't too terribly concerned. She would be even groggier if she didn't sleep at all, and math was her strongest subject. She had always been great at math, even in her freshman year of high school. There was a reason she had done Danny's math homework in a lame attempt to bribe him during the Miss Teenage Happy Princess Beauty Pageant that same year. It was the easiest subject for her, and she had noticed Danny was _never_ able to turn anything in on time. She wasn't surprised when she heard he had no plans on attending college.

Finished with her meal, Star packed up her laptop and started to make her way back to her dorm. She felt better knowing that she had a plan for tonight and tomorrow. Hopefully the Benadryl would knock her out enough that her reoccurring nightmares wouldn't wake her up. No matter how much sleep she got, she still felt so utterly _drained_ after a nightmare, and it always took her nearly two hours to calm down enough to go back to sleep. If she was lucky, tonight would be different. Then again, she considered, if she was lucky, English would have been spent discussing Leprechauns.


	4. Chapter 4

_I actually had a bit of fun with this. Combining personal experience with fictional narrative is actually a lot of fun and super relaxing, and I'm sad I didn't think of this sooner. That being said, since a lot of this is personal experience, that includes stupid judgement calls like antihistamine sleep aids. And self administered tattoos. (that doesnt happen for a while tho). Writing Star is a bit of a challenge cause she's kinda my exact opposite. I'm a transman who took no value in his appearance during my time at uni. Star, on the other hand, does, and takes pleasure in doing a lot more feminine-coded stuff, like cheer-leading. Also fun fact: my favorite way to wake up from a nightmare is via overheating. I hardly ever remember a dream when that happens, and I can re-orient myself so much quicker. I am very glad that there is a medication for nightmares. I've been on it for about two weeks, it's amazing. _

In the calm quiet, just before dawn, Star felt her body get hot. She sucked in a breath as she opened her eyes. It was like she had been underwater, and was just now reaching the surface. Her body was _hot_. An unnatural heat seemed to radiate out from her heart and into her hands and feet. Her hair clung uncomfortably to her clammy shoulders. Too _hot_. She tossed her comforter to the side, where it fell unceremoniously six feet to the floor.

She breathed, feeling her heart slow, and carefully sat up before tossing her hair behind her. She suddenly felt cold in just a camisole and sweat pants. She deeply regretted throwing her blanket to the ground. A quick glance to Morgan's alarm clock across the room informed her that it was six am. Star sighed, and realized that she may as well get up. Her class was at nine, so she had to be up in a few hours anyway.

Not for the first time, she thanked whatever higher powers were out there that she only had a 12 hour course load. Her French class was even online, which meant that she could do that on her own time. Not that she did, but she reasoned that she could always work on it later. She knew she would be kicking herself when the end of the semester got closer, but right now she really didn't care. Caring took too much effort, and most of it had already been spent caring about the classes she actually had to attend.

She decided that right now would be a good time to take a shower. Hardly anyone else would be up, and she didn't want to disturb her roommate, so she grabbed the small bag that held her soaps, lotions, and hairbrush, along with her towel and bathrobe, and, after slipping on a pair of cheap flip-flops, headed down the hall to the showers.

Much to her displeasure, she got stuck in the dorm with communal showers, but it wasn't too hard to get used to. It was hardly any different from the gym showers all the girls used after cheer practice. If there was one thing Star missed about Amity it was cheer-leading. For some reason, and no one was ever really sure why, the school was almost never attacked after hours. Maybe it was because there weren't really any humans to terrorize? That was probably it. All the same, Star always felt safest at cheer practice and football games.

She could lose herself in the routine. Out there on the field all that mattered was her and her team. Moving in sync with the other girls, the somersaults and flips, the pyramid building and deconstructing- These were all things that made her feel like she didn't have a care in the world. She remembered quiet clearly that the last time she felt truly _happy_ was at the last football game her senior year. The Ravens had suffered a rather horrific loss, but she cheered her heart out, and that was all that mattered to her. She only regretted that their team didn't make it to state, because as far as Casper High was concerned, the end of football season meant the end of cheer season as well.

When she reached the shower, the first thing she did after hanging her robe on a hook was turn on the hot water. The only down side to showering so early was that it took a little while for the water to warm up. On the bright side, she wouldn't have to worry about running out. So that was a plus. By the time she shrugged off her clothes in the linked changing stall and stepped under the stream of water it was nice and steaming.

There really was nothing like a nice hot shower to wash away the night's anxieties. Sleeping was something that Star found increasingly stressful, as counterintuitive as it seemed. As the water ran through her long blond hair she wondered why her sleeping troubles and anxiety problems were still so bad even _after_ leaving Amity Park. She also didn't remember being anywhere _near_ this jumpy while she was back at home.

Thinking back on it, however, she realized that she _had _always been a bit jumpy since the ghosts started showing up. But, then again, so had everyone else. Especially since junior year, when ghost fighting was integrated into the upperclassman gym curriculum. Now that she thought about it, Danny and Valerie seemed especially paranoid. And even though Danny had never done well in gym before, he had the _best_ reflexes in their ghost fighting class. Valerie was the only one that could even come close to his skill.

Star grabbed her shampoo from where she placed it on the shower floor, and squeezed some into her palms before working it through her thick hair. The scent of mint helped to wake her up some more. She supposed it made sense that Danny was good at ghost fighting; he was the son of two ghost hunters, after all. But then, wouldn't someone have seen him fighting ghosts around town? Ever since the Red Huntress upgraded her suit, it was no secret that she had actually been Valerie the whole time, but what about Danny? He always seemed to be the first to flee the scene in a ghost attack. But after that, it was never long before- Star cussed loudly. She had gotten soap in her eye. With a bit of a groan, she washed out her eye with some water cupped in her hand, and then moved on to rinsing the soap from her hair, her train of thought completely forgotten in the wake of personal injury.

She grabbed her wash cloth and body wash and proceeded to clean her arms and upper torso. Star had hoped that getting away from Amity would make things easier. But it was almost as if it had made things worse. At least in Amity, there was a valid _reason_ for her to be so stressed and paranoid. Here in Kingsdale, her nightmares were far worse than they had ever been, and now it seemed that even just the _mention_ of ghosts was enough to put her in high alert. Perhaps she was just afraid that the supernatural plague would somehow follow her from Amity and shatter her peaceful life at King U. Maybe her body and mind were so used to being in a constant state of worry that they didn't know how to handle peace and safety anymore. That didn't sound too unreasonable to her.

Once she was clean, she shut off the water and stepped out of the shower stall and into the changing one. A bit of water had splashed back, making the floor slightly damp. She wrapped her hair in a towel and laid her bathrobe on the small bench before sitting down, so she could apply sweet smelling lotion to her arms and legs. As she spread the lotion over her legs, she felt the fine hairs there. One of the benefits of being a natural blond was she didn't have to shave as often. She would probably do it in about two days, but for now it was hardly noticeable, and for that she was glad. Star didn't think she could bring herself to care enough to shave this morning. She noticed that she was a lot more apathetic about things like that. Sometimes, on the weekends when she had no where to be, she wouldn't even shower at all. In the past, she would shower almost twice a day, but now she considered herself lucky if she could motivate herself to do more than simply rinse off the day's grime.

Clean and moisturized, Star shrugged on her bathrobe and gathered up her toiletries before heading back to her room to finish getting ready for the day. She decided that she wouldn't bother with blow drying her hair today, because Morgan didn't have to be awake until after Star's first class, and she didn't want to wake up her sort-of friend.

Star sighed as she re-entered her room, thinking forward to her plans to meet with Professor Smalls later in that day. She had no idea how she was going to explain her actions, but she couldn't just ignore it. It wouldn't sit right with her, and she knew that. She had a feeling that she was in for another long day.


End file.
